


Like He's the Fucking Sun

by Lt_Cmdr_Scribbler



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bullying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I cannot stress the amount of hurt/comfort here, Muggleborn Slytherin, Pre-Relationship, Self-Esteem Issues, Slytherin Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 17:23:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8542102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lt_Cmdr_Scribbler/pseuds/Lt_Cmdr_Scribbler
Summary: A warm hand latched itself gently around her wrist, trying to stop her, and Keira yanked back her arm and held to her chest like she’d been burned. Burned by the pureness of a too-kind-for-his-own-good Gryff. Like he’s the fucking sun. Fitting, almost; probably sets himself on fire to keep other people warm-





	

**Author's Note:**

> Keira Hawkins has been sitting around my drive for a while now, so here's a oneshot that I wrote in one session with little-to-no editing because I am an insomniac.  
> This is probably set in early fourth year???? what is time

Keira sat, heedless of the damp ground soaking through her Muggle jeans, heedless of the way that the stiff, cold wind ripped through her cloak like it was nothing. She watched the surface of the Black Lake, rolling tiny waves across the pebble shore, and for a moment she pretended that she could hear someone in the Slytherin Common Room basking in the 1812 overture again, several meters directly below where she sat.

Keira clenched the hems of her sleeves tighter, having pulled the fabric up over her thumb, to envelope her whole hands against the cold. She could sense, rather than see someone walking up to her from behind, and she stubbornly refused to turn and look at them.

Their footsteps suddenly stopped, and a young voice, someone in her year, asked, “What are you doing here?”

In an instant, Keira was on her feet, her wand sliding into her hand from where she kept it up her sleeve. Her paranoid preparation was unneeded, however: Neville Longbottom stood a few meters behind her, hands stuffed in his pockets and furiously wiping a few tears out of his eyes.

Keira stuffed her wand into her back pocket. “I could ask you the same question, Longbottom. It’s almost curfew.”

Neville didn’t have a reply for her, and instead, he asked a question. “Were you crying?”

 _Curse his perceptiveness, curse his concerned-for-everyone attitude, just… ugh._ Keira wiped her own eyes furiously, and muttered, “None of your business, Longbottom.”

Surprisingly, he shrugged. “You’re right. It’s not. Don’t you think you should come inside, though? You don’t want to be out of the castle after curfew.”

Keira narrowed her eyes, but she was wearier than anything else. She sat down again, holding her knees close to her chest and facing out toward the Lake. “What does it matter?”

To her surprise, Neville sat down beside her, criss-crossing his legs as he sat down. “Being out of the castle means losing points. Losing points means becoming a spectacle. I don’t know about you, but I hate being a spectacle in front of my house.”

“Even if it’s about how you made Boggart-Snape wear a dress and a silly hat?” she quipped, a small, secret smile flashing across her face before she knew that it had.

Neville smiled a little, an expression more self-deprecating than anything else. “Yeah,” he replied, “Even if it's that.”

Keira felt her lower lip began to quake, and her throat begin to clench, and her only thought was _not now, not now, by Merlin’s blasted owl, not now._ “I can’t go back in there,” she choked out. “Not tonight, at least.”

“Why not?”

“ _Why not?_ ” she repeated, higher and almost mockingly, her scathing voice filled with shards of hatred that cut everyone near. “Because I’m not ready for another round of “trip the mudblood down the stairs,” that’s _why not_. Because I’d like to fall asleep with both eyes closed for once, that’s _why not_. Because- Because-” Keira cut herself off, stormed down the hill toward the lake, while clenching the hems of her sleeves inside of her fists.

A warm hand latched itself gently around her wrist, trying to stop her, and Keira yanked back her arm and held to her chest like she’d been burned. _Burned by the pureness of a too-kind-for-his-own-good Gryff. Like he’s the fucking sun. Fitting, almost, probably sets himself on fire to keep other people warm-_

Keira’s stream of poetic nonsense came to a screeching halt as warm, but yet not smothering arms wrapped themselves around her shoulders, and it almost put her in shock. Her face was buried in the red lining of Neville’s Gryffindor robe, and for a minute Keira felt warm, felt _real,_ before Neville moved away, out of arms reach. _Smart,_ Keira thought, _if he stayed much closer I might’ve hit him in the face._

“Better?” he asked her.

She almost wanted to laugh again. He thought one measly hug could make everything _better_? But it did, a little bit: her feet felt solid in her beat-up sneakers, and her fingers tingled back to life without any numb coldness seeping back into them.

Keira tipped her head back, breathing in the harsh, cold air and nearly choking on it like it was Firewhiskey. “A little,” she muttered. Shifting her weight, she blurted out, staring firmly at her dark green laces, “D’you mind bringing me back to Gryffindor Central? I’ll just sleep on a couch or something, I promise I won’t try to make a scene. I’ll be gone before morning, nobody will notice-“

“The Gryffindor common room? Sure.”

Her mouth almost slammed shut, and her eyes had widen so much that it almost hurt, and Neville gave her a little smile and held out his hand. “Come on, then.”

A little cautious, Keira let her hand settle in his, feeling just a bit weirded out about how his hand almost enveloped her own. She tried for a smile that in his opinion looked more like a smirk, but he didn’t say so, only wordlessly lead her back up the hill, into the castle and up the staircases. The Fat Lady gave her a look when Neville spoke the password in front of her, but the frame swayed open, nevertheless.

There are a few looks, but only from a few curious-but-tired first years and several languid and vaguely amused seventh-years, yet Keira still had to clamp down on the urge to run and wander the castle aimlessly all night long, and damn the Transfiguration test she has in the morning.

An armchair, large enough for a lanky girl like Keira to curl up on, was free, and Neville guided her right to it, picking up the gold and red woven blanket and draping it around her shoulders. She fiddled with the border, before muttering to Neville, “Why are you doing this, Longbottom?”

He didn’t respond for a few moments, just sat next to the armchair. Finally, he replied without eye contact and in a barely audible voice. “What does it matter?”

An echo of her own words, she knew, but she shrugged her shoulders like this all meant nothing. “Good point,” she allowed, and then reached over to place a hand on his shoulder. When his brown eyes looked up and back at her, Keira tried for another smile. “Thank you. Really. Thank you.”

His answering smile was a little shaky, but it was still nearly as bright as the fire not four feet away. “Don’t mention it,” he said, and it’s only when the clock chimed ten o'clock that he stood up a little awkwardly, eyeing the staircase toward the dormitories.

“Will you be here in the morning?”

Keira wanted to laugh, because that was _not_ a question she thought she would’ve heard at this age, but she knew it wasn’t like that. She shrugged as best she could while lying down. “We’ll see.”

Suddenly Neville’s smile was more cutting than before as he lightly teased, “Ready for that Transfiguration test tomorrow?”

It took all of Keira’s dignity to not pick up a throw pillow and chuck it at his face. Instead, she said, “Go to bed, Longbottom, and tell Potter congrats from me.”

“Sure, Keira. Sleep well.”

“You too,” she muttered, and it was only when he disappeared up the staircase that she finished under her breath, “Sunshine.”

**Author's Note:**

> this was some really good catharsis, so I'm open to writing more Keira Hawkins oneshots if you guys are open to reading them, I guess. will there be a chronological novel-length fic happening? who knows


End file.
